Repeating History

I am a big, dumb, hopeless animal. I should be kept in a cage for my own safety. Of course, I'd wind up in one of those experiments in which the scientists would tempt me with a tasty morsel. When I went to grab it, they would shock me.

I think that's actually what is happening. Scientists are putting sushi and nigiri in various fancy supermarkets. They're making it look tasty. They're not trying to convince me it will be as mind-boggling and spirit-altering as, say, Zen 32 or Hana. But they are trying to get me to try devouring the morsel.

And silly me: I never learn. It's barely going to be edible, and the supermarket is going to suck some easy cash out of my wallet. Because I'm relentlessly optimistic.

Want sushi? Pay a bit more, and get the good stuff. If that's what you're used to, store-bought sushi is going to taste like strips of rubber bicycle tube soaked in brine and clam juice. The store-bought offerings even smell like a dead lobster's nether regions.